THE HORSE AND THE RIDER,

A FRAGMENT.

And some there were, who shudd'ring, said
He held communion with the dead,

Deep in the midnight glen;

What time, his fir'd and trembling steed,
Of old Godolphin's gen'rous breed,
Ne'er felt a fear,—till then!

Nor height of hill,, nor depth of dale,
Did ever o'er his strength prevail,
Like that mysterious hour;

No antler'd monarch of the wood,
Ere challeng'd from his boiling blood
So full, so fast a shower!

No form was seen! no voice was heard
And yet there was indeed a Third,
-While all around was still ;-
That did unearthly parley hold !
But what-the Rider never told,

Perchance he never will.

FINIS.

THE

Conflagration of Moscow:

A POEM.

1

PREFACE.

THIS Poem, in its first edition, was not unfavourably received, but it was considered too short. It is now three times as long. Perhaps I have added many faults, to remove one. Be that as it may, the Poem is now long enough—if good for any thing,— too long--if good for nothing. It was written at such intervals as could be spared from the prosecution of a larger work; but although this may be some excuse for writ

ing bad lines, I admit it is none for printing

them.---If fine themes always made fine

B

poets, this little effort would be much more deserving of the public attention; but the converse is unfortunately the case. The subject, indeed, deserves a pen that has more leisure, and more ability than mine. The Conflagration of Moscow is the most interestingevent of these latter times--whether we consider the immensity of the force that was put in array against her, the magnanimity of the sacrifice, or the incalculable importance of the results, Our modern Manufacturer of Kings would certainly have issued a fresh batch from his imperial oven of the Kremlin, if it had not been overheated by some of the workmen.

I may be accused of not having treated my hero with sufficient respect, as in the opinion of many, he is still "majestic, though